


when the morning comes

by all_delighted_people



Category: MASH (TV), Palm Springs (2020)
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Violence, time loops as a meet cute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:00:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26336836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/all_delighted_people/pseuds/all_delighted_people
Summary: two strangers walk into a time vortex. punchline.the idea of a mash/palm springs au grabbed me by the throat and wouldn't let me go until i wrote it.
Relationships: B. J. Hunnicutt/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce, Lorraine Anderson/Margaret "Hot Lips" Houlihan
Comments: 12
Kudos: 60





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> just a warning, but there will be violence in this fic. it's the equivalent of what happens in palm springs and not graphic but it does happen.

No matter the time of year, Palm springs always seemed to be too much. Too hot, too dry, too old. Even well into November, it was still as bright and sunny as San Francisco was in August. B.J. couldn’t understand why anyone would want to visit, but that’s where Margaret had decided to get married. So that is where B.J. found himself this weekend.

The ceremony had exhausted him. It wasn’t anybody’s fault, he just found that weddings annoyed him now. If it was anyone else but Margaret, he would have politely declined the invitation. But the way she lit up while telling him about Lorainne, he couldn’t say no. But old habits die hard, and throughout the entire ceremony, he found his mind wandering to old memories that he would rather forget. Luckily, the open bar was more than willing to help him out. B.J. once again found himself waiting at the bar for a drink while listening to yet another poorly written bridesmaid speech. Or maybe it was the same one. He really couldn’t tell at this point.

“You can pour more. Today is not the day for moderation,” He told the bartender, looking at the partially filled glass of red wine. The bartender raised his eyebrow at him and filled the glass to the top.

Giving a healthy tip, B.J. downed a good portion of the glass and turned back towards the speech giver. He didn’t recognize her, probably one of Margaret’s friends. Not one of the nurses that worked at the hospital with them, judging from her speech.

“Are they hashtag life goals or what everybody?” She said into the microphone, garnering a low woo from the crowd. She had been talking for much longer than her charm allowed for, and it was starting to wear thin. Margaret seemed to be enjoying it, though. She hadn’t stopped beaming all day and B.J. couldn’t help but smile to see her finally getting the wedding she’d been dreaming of, the one that she deserved. Lorraine leaned in, kissing Margaret.

Speech Gal, as B.J. had taken to calling her in his head, continued. “Margaret, I’ve always felt that you were like a sister to me and I am so glad that you have found true happiness! And hopefully, that happiness will last longer than three months this time,” She joked, to the visible cringe of Margaret and Lorainne.

“Jesus Christ,” B.J. muttered to no one in particular.

“I know right, I don’t know how she’s managing to do a worse job than last time,” came an unexpected response. B.J. turned and saw that someone had walked up to the bar. It looked like he had accidentally wandered into the wedding from the pool. He was wearing a blue Hawaiian shirt on top of swim trunks, not the cocktail attire that B.J. had been suffering in all day.

“Hmm?”

“What?”

“What do you mean since last time?”

“Since the rehearsal dinner, last night, I didn’t think it was possible, but I guess that’s what happens when you use google results for half your speech.”

“I decided to google the two most important things about marriage: Love and commitment,” Speech Gal said. The stranger smiled and winked at B.J., accentuating the coincidence. “Love is to, quote, feel a deep romantic or sexual attachment to someone, unquote. We know ole Hot Lips is fine in that department.” Hawkeye laughed, and B.J. took another sip to cover up his own blush. He was an adult, another person’s laugh shouldn’t affect him like this. He hoped that the wine would help cool him down, but he felt his cheeks heat up even more. She continued to the continued cringe of Margaret and some of the older people in the crowd, “And Commitment is “the state or quality of being dedicated to a cause, activity, etcetera.”

“Oh she’s done,” Margaret said after a moment of silence and started to clap, “Woohoo!”

Obviously not the triumphant ending that Speech Gal had hoped for, she gave a halfhearted curtsy and said, “Now, let me bring up the actual sister of the bride!”

Speech Gal looked around, and after another moment of silence called her up again, “Come on up!”

There was a slight murmur through the crowd as people began to peer around. “

She’s a little preoccupied at the moment,” called out the mystery man, and all eyes turned back towards them. He turned to B.J., smiling while handing him his beer, “Hold this for me?”

B.J. took it and his new friend walked - no - sauntered up to the Brides’ table.

“Hawkeye, what are you on about?” Margaret scream-whispered to him as he walked up there, trying to hide how upset she was with a smile.

“Well, Margaret, your sister is currently in the bathroom regretting eating all those shrimp from earlier,” Hawkeye flashed back. “But I’m going in for the assist. I have some thoughts on marriage that I would love to share,” He said while rescuing the mic from Speech Gal’s hands, who kept looking back and forth between him and Margaret.

Margaret’s eyes widened, “No, no, no, no”

“Oh Yes, yes, yes, yes”

B.J. stifled a laugh. Whoever this Hawkeye was, he sure did make looking like a jackass effortless.

Hawkeye turned from Margaret, who was now cradling her head in her hands as Lorainne rubbed her back, to the crowd.

“We are born lost. Then… we’re found, but we’re all just lost, am I right? But, If you can keep your head while all about you are losing theirs, then there comes a light,” Hawkeye turned to face the brides, who had gone from looking dismayed to intrigued. “Margaret Houlihan and Lorainne Anderson - Who are lesbians!” He said with a flourish, causing B.J. to snort while trying to keep from laughing too hard. “You see, their optimism, their selflessness, it’s in their blood. They have both dedicated themselves to saving lives. Let me say that again, they save lives! They give their time - their blood, sweat, and tears - to save people who don’t know how to use fireworks correctly. And Margaret, there’s something that a lot of people here don’t know about you, but they should. I hope you don’t mind. It’s not just her career that Margaret has dedicated to helping people, she has also donated of herself. That’s right, she has donated blood every two months - the red cross recommended time - since she turned 17,” He paused. “You can clap, it’s noble!”

He began to clap to encourage everyone else. Margaret and Lorainne had both perked up at the speech, obviously not what they had expected. Margaret started to blush at the attention.

“But now it’s time for us to give to you,” He turned back to the crowd, and B.J. swore that he was staring right at him. With those big blue eyes. Doing everything he could to stop himself from downing the rest of the wine, he managed to stare right back. The rest of the crowd seemed to be hanging onto every word as well, although the heartbeat loudly reverbing in his ears could have been blocking out any words that were coming from other guests.

“Here you are standing on the precipice of something so much bigger than anyone here. And it may be frightening and filled with doubt. But always remember: you are not alone. Everyone here is your family. We are your world. And we will cheer you on with delight in our eyes as you achieve your wildest dreams. So raise a glass. We may be born lost, but now you are found. Cheers”

***

B.J. couldn’t tell if time had speed up for him, or if everyone was really that desperate for the speeches to be over, but before he knew it he was sitting watching everyone out on the dance floor. Hawkeye’s words kept cycling in his head. He took another sip of wine, savoring each mouthful now. It couldn’t have been for him, he knew that ridiculous. But he could’ve sworn that Hawkeye had looked straight at him at the end. And with a Kipling reference, he couldn’t help but feel that it was for him. He went for another sip and found his glass empty.

 _T_ _ime for a refill_ , he thought. Getting up and steadying himself, he noticed Hawkeye standing off to the side. He was at one of the bar tables, staring off into the desert surrounding the resort. _Well, maybe the drink can wait,_ and he began to head in his direction.

As he got closer, he noticed that Hawkeye was sniffing the air.

“What are you smelling?” He jokingly asked when he got to the table.

“Still Waters 9, right?” “

Yeah,” B.J. answered uncertainly, recognizing the cologne that he was wearing, “You know that’s weird, right?”

“Sniffing’s a passion of mine. I used to do it religiously. So I know my colognes.”

“Here’re your drinks that you forgot to pick up at the bar,” The bartender interrupted before B.J. had a chance to respond. He placed two cocktails down.

“Thank you so much, Igor,” Hawkeye called as he walked away. “I always get two, it saves me a trip.”

“Or you might just be an alcoholic”

“Have the other one then, save me from myself,” Hawkeye offered, lifting his own glass for a toast. B.J. took his offer and clicked glasses.

“Cheers,” Hawkeye said and took a drink. B.J. followed suit.

“So,” B.J. started, “Are you one of Margaret’s friends?”

“Oh yeah, we go way back,” Hawkeye smiled, “We went to medical school together. I’m Hawkeye, by the way. Don’t think I said before.”

“I’m B.J.”

“Pleasure to meet you B.J.”

B.J. smiled, “The pleasure is mine.”

“So, B.J.,” Hawkeye gestured out to the dance floor, now filled to the brim with squirming bodies,

“You don’t dance?”

“No, bad feet.” “

Ah,”

“Excuse me, young man,” a voice interrupted them.

B.J. turned to see an older lady, maybe one of Margaret or Lorainne’s grandmothers, had walked up to their table.

“I have been to a lot of weddings in my life, and I think that yours was one of the best speeches I’ve ever heard.” She smiled at Hawkeye, and then at B.J..

“Thank you,” Hawkeye said, feigning sincerity.

She walks away after patting Hawkeye on his shoulder. B.J. was surprised she didn’t try to pinch his cheeks.

“Wow,” B.J. teased.

“It feels good. But don’t be jealous, I bet she was just saying that to get to my body,”

B.J. laughed, looking out on the dance floor. he took another sip, thinking back to the speech that just moments ago was consuming his every thought.

“Hey Hawk,” He said after a pause, “You don’t believe all that. What you said up there. Do you?”

“Oh no, were born we die and all of this is consumerist bullcrap to show that we’re not as alone as we feel.”

“Yeah,” B.J. chuckled, comforted in the fact that it was all bullshit, “I did like the Kipling reference. That was a nice touch.”

“I figured there would be someone out there to catch it," Hawkeye said as he smiled at B.J., "I'm glad it was you."

B.J. heard some leaves rustle, and Hawkeye jumped, looking for the source. Both him and B.J. saw another wedding guest, judging from the suit, sneak out from a bush near the wedding tent.

“Thank god,” Hawkeye muttered under his breath. Turning back to B.J. he stares at him a little too long. “Do you want to go somewhere where we can be more alone?”

“That’s very forward, what’s the rush?”

“Well, it’s just that Margaret’s mom and dad are about to sing a song to show that they’ve buried the ax and I do not want to be here when it comes back up.”

B.J. stopped for a second. Was he really going to hook up with a stranger at a wedding in the middle of the desert? Just because he quoted Kipling? _Fuck it_. B.J. looked Hawkeye up and down, stopping on his bright blue eyes. He smiled and said, “Let’s go.”

***

Hawkeye had brought them out into the desert not far from the party, finding a rock that was slightly more comfortable than the ones around it. They had wasted no time, which was funny to B.J. because he felt that time had speed up for the second time that night. Maybe time didn’t mean anything, but he could pinpoint the exact moment that Hawk’s lips met his. Before he knew it, he was trying to untie Hawk’s swim trunks and was not getting anywhere.

“I give up. Will you please take off your clothes”

“Yeah, you got it.” Hawkeye got up and ripped open his top flinging buttons everywhere.

“That a little dramatic, don’t you think?”

“All the more memory to leave you with,” Hawkeye said as he untied his shorts. untied his swim trunks and pulled them down to reveal his boxers.

“You wear boxers under your swim trunks?”

“Doesn’t everybody?”

It was then that Hawkeye’s shoulder got hit with an arrow.

B.J., having never seen anyone get hit with a projectile, screamed bloody murder.

“What the fuck is happening?”

“Ow, Fuck,” Hawkeye said as he grabbed and yanked the arrow out. He tossed it on the ground, where it bounced and almost hit B.J..

“Frank, I know I smelled you! You stink like a ferret!”

“What the fuck!”

“You’re a sick fuck, Frank,” Hawkeye said, ignoring B.J.. Hawkeye had already started running. To be fair, B.J. had started hiding a second ago, ducking behind whatever rock he could find.

As B.J. hid behind the rock where things were going quite well mere seconds ago, a short man in full camo ran past him.

“You can run, but I’ll always find you,” He yelled in the general direction of where Hawkeye had gone.

B.J. sat there, stunned for a moment. _What was happening_? This wasn’t how he wanted to spend his might. In fact, seeing the guy he was planning on boning - not just due to the Kipling quote, he reminded himself - get shot with an arrow was not even on the menu of things he thought were possible for tonight. After a while of catching his breath, he realized that he hadn’t heard anything for a moment. No yelling, or noises that he imagined would happen during a murder. _You are a doctor, you need to go after him_ , He thought as he stayed perfectly still. Finally, his dedication to healthcare overcame his common sense and he got up and went off in Hawk’s direction. He didn’t need to go far. Creeping around the hill, he spotted a cave.

“Hawkeye, are you in there?” B.J. whisper-shouted as he crept into the mouth of the cave.

“Don’t come in here!”

“Hawk?” B.J. yelled once again, and after hearing no reply decided to go deeper. Strange, he thought. He didn’t notice the light coming from deep inside the cave. It wasn’t until he was staring straight into the light that he realized that something was wrong.

***

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

Hawkeye hit snooze, though he knew that he wasn’t going to get any more sleep.

He grabbed his phone hoping that it would say anything else. Rubbing the sleep out of his eye, he read the bright screen. 10:35 am. November 9th. Again.

 _Fuck it_ , he thought. Time to waste some time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: intense déjà vu leads to day drinking, spelunking, and playing darts. Proceed with caution.

The worst part about being stuck in a time loop was the fact that he had to blow up the pool float every morning. That was a bald-faced lie, but it was one of the few things that Hawkeye could complain about without spiraling out completely. The float was manageable. He could get up and inflate it using the shitty pump that the hotel provided. It was constant.

He had lost track of how many times it had been November 9th a while ago. He tried to keep going - especially since it was quite literally all he could do - but some mornings, when he woke up to the vastness of time pressing down on his chest, all he could manage was to blow up a pizza-shaped pool float. It relaxed him.

Strangely, floating in the pool never got old. He had always been restless, and now when he was stuck in time all he could manage was lounging around. He cracked open another can of beer and took a sip. That was one of the nice things about being stuck in a time loop. He never had to buy more beer, the pack he bought never ran out. No matter how much of it he drank, it would all be there the next morning. Ice cold, sitting in the room’s mini-fridge. He also never had to figure out what to wear, his Hawaiian shirt always worked. Even if Margaret didn’t appreciate him wearing extreme casual to her wedding.

He figured that there were worse places to be stuck. At least Palm Springs was always sunny, and much warmer than New England this time of year. He used to check the weather every morning, just for confirmation that Crabapple Cove still existed. That whatever cold front that he left was still blowing through. He stopped after he memorized the humidity for each hour.

The sun shined down on him as he took another sip. Last night had definitely not gone how he had wanted, but he didn’t let it get him down. There was always tonight. And tomorrow night. And the night after that. Hopefully, he would get a respite from Frank for a couple of days.

He held out a can to Klinger, who swam up right on schedule.

“Thanks,” Klinger said, taking the can, “Good day so far?”

“Today, tomorrow, yesterday, it’s all the same.”

Klinger looked back at him with obvious concern. He held the can back to Hawk.

“I think you need this more than me.”

Hawk shook his head.

“No, it’s a great morning. It’s always a great morning,” trying unconvincingly to show he was okay. He forgot that Klinger saw through his bullshit. “You?”

“It’s early, ask me again at the end of the day,” He smiled at Hawkeye, “Anything can happen.”

Hawkeye chuckled a little bit at that. He couldn’t count how many times he heard Klinger say that.

“You!”

_That was new._

He and Klinger looked over to the hotel to see a very angry B.J. pointing at him.

“What did you do to me!?”

_Oh no._

Klinger looked at Hawkeye.

“This looks like something you need to handle,” He said, as he promptly swam away. Klinger always did have a great sense of self-preservation.

Hawkeye was focused on B.J., who was now speed-walking towards the poolside. He panicked, trying to get away, but the pizza floaty was not conducive to transportation.

“Get out of the pool,” B.J. continued, “Get out of the pool!”

Hawkeye had completely abandoned the pool float and was now trying to swim. B.J., not willing to let him get away, had found Hawkeye’s 12-pack and was throwing cans at the man. Diving under the water, Hawkeye attempted to dodge the cans to no avail. Not hearing anything enter the pool, he hopefully thought for a moment that he was in the clear until he was pulled to the surface.

“Tell me what the fuck is going on,” B.J. yelled, gasping onto Hawkeye’s collar.

***

“So,” Hawkeye said, offering a beer to B.J., “looks like you followed me.”

They were sitting on lounge chairs by the poolside. B.J. was still wearing his pajamas, which were now sopping wet from jumping in the pool. He didn’t acknowledge Hawk’s offer, and Hawkeye slowly put it down.

“What’s going on.”

“I, uh, tried to stop you.”

“But what is this?” B.J. gestured around him, “When is this?”

“So, about that,” Hawkeye tried to figure out to explain this. He tried to tell people early on, but he at best got polite looks of concern in response followed by an immediate change in subject. At most he got cut off from the open bar by Igor. “So, today is today. Right? But yesterday is also today. And tomorrow is also today. Ad infinitum. Et cetera. And so on and so forth.”

B.J. just continued staring at him like he was crazy.

“It’s, um,” He cleared his throat, “one of those infinite time loop things you might have heard about.”

“That I might have heard about?” B.J. responded with an edge.

“Yeah” Hawk didn’t know what else to do. There wasn’t any easy way to tell somebody, ‘ _Surprise, the guy that you almost hooked up with last night has been stuck in a time loop for so long that he can barely remember life before and now you are too!_ ’ If he had known that he’d been followed into the cave he would’ve bought a card or something. He honestly couldn’t believe that B.J. had followed him. He’d been so careful in the past, to make sure that nobody else would end up where he was. And the fact that B.J. was now here, stuck with him, hurt more than he cared to acknowledge.

“Well, how do you get out of it? There has to be a way to stop it.”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

“But, I want tomorrow to be tomorrow, not today.”

“Perfectly expected response, but unfortunately not going to happen.”

B.J. stared at the ground, in shock.

Hawk was unsure of what to do. He hadn’t really had to do this before, at least for a while. Did he offer him another beer? Pat him on the back? Hug him? Hold him?

“Wait,” B.J. said, interrupting Hawk’s train of thought, “The cave! Whatever did this must be in there.” He grabbed Hawk’s arm. “We can just go there and figure it out.”

Hawk wished he could say B.J. had solved it. That everything was going to be okay and that there was an easy answer out. That he’d just stayed reliving the same day over and over and over because he wanted to. Because he was too chickenshit to go back and check it out. B.J.’s grip was tight, desperate for an answer that Hawk plain didn’t have. He tried to smile at B.J., anything to make him feel a little better.

“That cave doesn’t technically exist yet,” Hawkeye said, trying to not crush any hope that B.J. might have of getting out. His hand loosened, letting go of Hawkeye’s arm. The feeling lingered. “There’s an earthquake late today that cracks it open. You gotta wait until then.”

B.J. stared at Hawkeye, an unreadable expression behind his eye.

“So what do you do all day? This?” B.J. questioned, “You just sit drinking by the poolside? Forever?”

“I don’t just drink by the poolside! Sometimes I drink at Rosie’s” Hawkeye responded, jokingly lifting his can.

“Rosies?”

“It’s a dive a couple of miles down the road. Let me take you, my treat. It’s the least I can do.”

B.J. paused, looking at Hawk with the same expression as he had last night at the bar. Not for the first time, Hawk wished he could tell what he was thinking.

“Fine,” B.J. decided.

“Great, but you will have to drive,” Hawkeye grinned at B.J., before downing the rest of his beer.

***

It had not been a good morning for B.J.. He guessed that any time where you find out that the intense déjà vu you’ve been having is not déjà vu but in fact, the result of being stuck in a time loop could be described as bad. Finding out that he had gotten stuck in said time loop in Palm Springs was even worse.

Here he found himself, driving to a bar he didn’t know so that someone who was basically a stranger could buy him a drink. You would think after last night he would have stopped taking offers from strangers, but here he was. Always making the best decisions. He guessed that he couldn’t really categorize Hawkeye as a stranger anymore. He didn’t know what he could call him. He figured that there were worse people to be stuck with than a sweet talker in a Hawaiian shirt.

“It’s going to be the next left,” Hawkeye said, interrupting his spiraling.

“Thanks.”

There was another awkward silence, following them the rest of the ride until B.J. turned and parked. Getting out of the car, B.J. finally got a good look at the dive. In front of them was a building that, if B.J. had any sense of self-preservation, would make him get back in his car and leave. He. .would’ve if Hawkeye wasn’t already walking in.

“You coming?” He called back, holding the door open. B.J. followed him inside. 

It was about what he expected. There were a couple of booths, pool tables, a pinball game. Bar signs were surrounding the bar, which looked like it was surprised that it was still standing. But, most surprisingly, he and Hawk weren’t the only ones getting a drink that early.

Hawkeye walked right up to the bar.

“Beej, what do you want?”

“Whatever you’re having, I guess.”

Hawk ordered something from the bartender, and B.J. couldn’t help but notice how at ease he seemed. Even at the wedding, his outfit alone would’ve made him stand out, but he had such an air about him that relaxed everyone around him. Or at least that’s how B.J. felt. He didn't know what he’d do if he didn’t have Hawk right now. He followed him up to the bar.

Hawkeye handed B.J. a beer, “There’s a bottle opener under the bar.”

He already opened his and was taking a sip.

“So, no cheers,” B.J. said, opening his, “How rude.”

Hawkeye smiled at him, and held his bottle out, “Forgive me?”

They clinked bottles, and before B.J. could say anything else they were interrupted by a cheer from across the bar. They both turned and saw a couple of people playing darts.

“Rizzo!” Hawkeye yelled, pointing at one of them. He handed B.J. his beer and began walking over. “You. Me. A hundred bucks.”

“Who the fuck are you?”

Hawkeye ignored him, grabbing three darts. B.J. started to make his way over, just as Hawk threw his first dart, landing it right in the center.

“Don’t you know how to hustle?”

“Rizzo, I am an honest man, but you can keep the money. I’m in it for the sport,” Hawkeye said, feigning sincerity. He turned to B.J., “This next one’s for you.”

He threw his next dart, another bullseye.

“Oh my god,” B.J. said, suddenly remembering and interrupting Hawk’s last dart, “Who was the guy hunting you?”

Hawk missed the last shot. “Oh, that.”

He walked over to B.J., who had sat down in the nearest booth to watch.

“That was Frank," He said, sitting down. "He’s one of Margaret’s exes from med school. They broke up before we became good friends, but Margaret’s always felt kind of bad for him. I wouldn't have invited him, but once she's got an idea in her head she'll commit.”

“Yeah, but why was he trying to kill you,” B.J. pressed.

“Oh, that,” Hawkeye said, hands fidgeting with the label on the beer. “I partied with him a while back, one of the early days. I never really hung out with the guy before, and we got to talking at the bar. Which lead to us stealing a bunch of weed from Francis. I showed him the cave after he said, and I quote, I wish this night would never end. I realized what I had done just a millisecond too late.”

There was a pause. The label was off the bottle now and Hawkeye was now picking at the glue. For the first time, B.J. noticed how tired he looked.

“You stole weed from the priest?” B.J. said, trying to lighten the mood.

Hawkeye looked at him, and smiled, “Francis isn’t technically a priest, just an ordained minister. But yeah, we did steal weed from him.”

Hawkeye chuckled, and then sobered a little, looking back down at his bottle.

“When Frank found out about his new life he did not take it kindly. Luckily, he’s a real cheapskate and stayed at one of his father-in-law’s vacation homes near Irvine. He only actually comes up every couple of days. Or weeks. I’m not really sure,” He blinked, “It’s kind of hard to tell.”

He looked back up to B.J., "Everything gets kind of fuzzy in here after a while."

“That still doesn’t answer my question, what does he want with you?”

Hawk shrugged, “I think he sees it as revenge. He’s a real fink. But ever since him, I swore to never bring anybody else into this life.”

“Amen to that!” Rizzo called out, interrupting their pained eye contact.

Hawk laughed, and B.J. could’ve sworn that his blue eyes twinkled. He cleared his throat and took another sip of his beer, hoping to cool his rising blush.

“That’s enough about that,” Hawkeye said, looking back at B.J., “You hungry? the truck out front’s about to open.”

***

“So what other stuff do you do?” They were sitting at a little picnic table outside, eating burritos that Hawk had insisted he pay for. He could almost pretend that it meant something if he hadn't seen Hawk tip using a hundred. Then he remembered their situation. 

“What do you mean?”

“I’m assuming you weren’t that good at darts before all this. Anything else?”

“Let’s see. I learned how to knit. Tried to get better at playing pool, but it’s just not in the cards for me. I’ve tried to make it all the way up the Pan American Highway, but I always end up passing out somewhere north of Vancouver.”

“Impressive.”

“Thank you.” Hawkeye said, “But stuff like that takes a whole lot of work, and I’ve committed to spending my life with as little effort as I can.”

“Mmhmm.”

“You know, I don’t concern myself with the material world anymore,” Hawkeye put his hand over his heart.

B.J. snorted. “Except for burritos,” B.J. pointed, “And booze. And drugs”

“Well yeah,” Hawk smirked, “Just because I’m from New England doesn’t mean I’m a Puritan.”

“Do you hook up with anyone in here?”

B.J. didn’t know why he asked that. He knew the answer, he was there last night. He knew the answer, he knew he wasn’t special. He took another bite.

“Oh, the juicy stuff.” Hawk wiggled his eyebrows “I have.”

“Have we, uh, ever hooked up?”

“No, not that I can remember. At least not before last night” Hawkeye quickly answered and then paused, “But enough about me, what about your sex life?”

“I don’t kiss and tell,” B.J. laughed.

“Well, I was just being courteous.”

“I would’ve. The other night,” B.J. said quietly, “But now-”

“Oh, yeah. I was thinking the same thing,” Hawkeye interrupted, “We’ll be seeing each other all the time, so let's keep it simple.”

Hawkeye looked like he wanted to say something more, but whatever was left of their conversation was cut off when the ground started to shake.

“Great,” Hawkeye said, getting up out of his chair, “The cave’s open for business.”

***

Hawkeye really hated this cave. Obviously whatever was in there was responsible for the nightmare that his life had become. If he could even call his existence a life anymore. But whenever he stood outside of it, he got the most intense feeling of dread, one that he was usually able to drown out. By principle, he tried to stay away from it. 

“Hey, Beej,” Hawkeye said, “You’re not going to find what you want in there.”

B.J. had already started looking around, trying to recreate his steps before walking in. If he heard Hawkeye, he didn’t show it.

“There’s nothing strange out here,” B.J. called out.

“There’s only a giant glowing... thing in there,” Hawkeye continued, waving his hands, “You’re not going to find anything else.”

B.J. turned around, facing Hawkeye.

“You can stay out here,” B.J. said, “but I need to see what’s in there.”

“Fine,” Hawkeye responded, crossing his arm.

“Fine.”

“Good.”

B.J. smiled, “You really have to get the last work in, huh?”

Before Hawkeye could come up with a witty response, B.J. turned back towards the cave and walked in, giving Hawk a little wave.

Hawk sighed. He sat down and waited a little bit, just in case. Just in case B.J. did find something. Just in case he didn’t. He didn’t know how long he waited, but eventually, he got up and headed back towards the hotel. Judging from the light, it was still early enough that he could swim a little bit before making the reception. He wouldn’t have any reason to make a speech tonight, and he tried to tell himself that it was because it had been a long day. He knew though.

***

The next morning, he wasn’t awoken by his alarm. Which was new. Hawk jerked awake, a pain in his toe pulling him out of his slumber.

“Jesus,” He yelped and shot up. He looked around to see B.J. sitting at the foot of his bed. He rubbed his eyes, wanting to make sure that it was him. “What are you doing?”

“You were right,” B.J. said, holding out a coffee, “There was nothing there.”

Taking the coffee, Hawkeye turned to sit.

“I didn’t know how you liked it,” B.J, said, “So I just got black. Also, sorry if that hurt. Also also, sorry for breaking into your room, you should lock it next time.”

A thousand thoughts were running through his mind. But the warm cup in his hands grounded him. He couldn't remember the last time that he had been brought a drink. Or the last time he had gotten coffee in the morning. It was nice. Nice enough to make him forgive that B.J. had broken into his room. 

“This is great,” he said, taking a sip. “Thank you.”

He smiled at B.J.. He hoped that he understood how much it meant. 

“Great,” B.J. smiled right back, “So, what are we doing today?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I was writing the end part where B.J. brings Hawk coffee, I remembered a bit of a poem called "Small Kindnessses" by Danusha Laméris, that I had already put aside for beejhawk purposes.  
> "We want to be handed our coffee hot, and to say thank you to the person handing it. To smile at them and for them to smile back."  
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day at the pool and a wedding, the same but different.

"How did you even find this place?” B.J. asked, tossing his float into the small pool. Hawkeye had led them to a house a little bit from the resort that they had been staying at. Well, Hawkeye gave directions while B.J. drove. Hawkeye insisted on buying B.J. an obnoxious float just like his own, and they had packed them into his rental. It had almost felt normal, just like the coffee. He even considered packing a picnic, but quickly dismissed it. He packed a cooler instead, filing it with the beer from his minifridge. As little effort as possible, he reminded himself.

“I’ve been almost everywhere around here,” Hawkeye responded. He had come out here by himself so many times. It was nice to have a place where he didn’t need to put on a show for everyone else. “This is my sanctuary, my oasis in this vast desert.”

He tossed his float into the pool too, then tossed himself in for good measure. When he was under the water, it was easy to pretend that the pool was a beach. The property went right up to the vast desert, and what was a beach if not sand and water. It used to bother him, being away from the ocean. Back in Maine, he and his dad used to go out to the beach and fish on days like these. They’d pack lunch and a couple of chairs, and sit on the beach until the tide came in or the sun went down. Whichever one happened first. He tried to drive out to the Pacific a couple of times, but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t his ocean. Nonetheless, he had found his respite in this pool, or at least told himself that he had.

“Come on in, the water’s fine!” He called out to B.J. as he resurfaced.

B.J. had changed into a swimsuit and a red Hawaiian shirt. Hawkeye had joked that they almost matched when he first saw. B.J. started unbuttoning his shirt.

“I can’t believe you go swimming in your clothes.”

“I may not be a Puritan, but I am still from Maine. I'm pretty sure this sun would kill me otherwise.”

B.J. tossed his shirt onto one of the lounge chairs on the pool deck before walking over to the stairs. Hawkeye pushed his float over to him as he waded in.

“So, does this count as breaking and entering?” B.J. asked, a little nervous, as he caught the float.

“Is that a deal-breaker for you? Because I distinctly remember somebody breaking into my hotel room this morning,” Hawkeye said, “And the people here are out of town. I have no idea when they get back, but it’s not today.”

B.J. still hesitated, looking around at the house and the desert beyond.

“Come on, relax.” Hawkeye swam to the side of the pool, reaching for the cooler. He pulled out two beers and swam over to B.J., who was now sitting precariously on top of his float. “Have a drink.”

“Pool-side service? This sure is a fancy joint.” B.J. joked, taking the can.

“You think I’d take you someplace cheap?”

“I didn’t know that you were this ritzy.”

Hawkeye feigned offense, as he was wont to do.

“I only get the best, especially for a cultured fellow such as yourself.”

B.J. laughed at that. Hawkeye loved that he could make B.J. laugh. Every time it happened, he hoped that it made up for everything. For Palm Springs. For him.

He ducked under the water. _Stop it_ , he thought to himself, before pulling himself back up. He wiped the water from his eyes, finding B.J. staring at him.

“Do I have something on my face?” Hawkeye jokingly asked.

“Oh, no.” B.J. cleared his throat and looked away, taking a sip of his beer. “It’s nothing.”

Finally getting up onto his float, Hawkeye cracked open his own can. He decided to ignore how weird Beej was being, chalking it up to time-loop jet lag. He wasn’t going to let himself consider other options. He held out his can towards B.J..

“A toast,” He said, “to wasting time.”

B.J. looked back and smiled. He held out his own can.

“To wasting time.”

They floated in silence for a little bit. It was getting to be the hottest time of day, and the desert beyond them was starting to shimmer. Soon it would be too hot to be outside, but for now, it was perfect. Hawkeye had gotten used to doing nothing, but that was when he was alone. Now, there was someone to share this with - someone who didn’t want to torture him. It was nice to just sit with someone who understands.

“Hey Hawk,” B.J. said, interrupting Hawkeye’s thoughts.

“Yeah, Beej?”

“Is this it?”

That was not a question that Hawkeye was prepared to answer.

“You mean, like, existentially?” Hawkeye responded, stumbling, “I’m not really sure. I’ve, uh, often thought-”

“No, not that,” B.J. turned back towards Hawkeye, “I meant this, like the pool. You just float all day?”

“Not all day, I have a wedding to go to later,” Hawkeye joked, trying desperately to change the subject. “If you want, you can be my plus one. I know the bride and she won’t mind.”

“Hawk.”

“Okay, you caught me. She will mind, but I’m a sucker for a mustache.”

“Hawk,” B.J. said, firmer this time. “Don’t you get bored?”

_Oh no._

“Why? Are you bored?”

“Hawkeye, I’m not-”

“You can tell me if you’re not having a good time.” Hawkeye interrupted. He was on a roll now. “I’m mean, this is stupid anyway. I won’t be offended. I rather know, cause then I won’t drag you back out with me. I knew I should have packed something else to do.”

He knew that he was rambling, but that didn’t mean that he could stop himself. He was so deep in it that he hadn’t noticed B.J. had hopped off his float and waded over to him. He didn’t notice until his own float was flipped over.

“Hey!” He said, surfacing. “You pushed me in!”

“You wouldn’t stop!”

“Yeah, but you pushed me!”

Before B.J. can say anything else, Hawk grabbed his arm and pulled him down with him into the water. It obviously shocked him, Hawkeye didn’t think he’d go down as easy otherwise.

“You,” B.J. said, somewhat in disbelief, grabbing onto Hawkeye's shoulder and pulling himself back up. “You pulled me in!”

“Doesn’t feel so good, does it?”

“I can’t believe you!”

“That’s rich, coming from the guy who started this,” Hawkeye said, and then stuck out his tongue for good measure.

B.J. stared at Hawkeye, his hand still on his shoulder, and for a second Hawkeye worried that he had taken it too far. But then B.J. started laughing. It was a real, deep laugh and Hawkeye couldn’t help but laugh along.

“You are ridiculous!” B.J. said in between laughs.

“I told you that this would be fun!” Hawk responded, glad that the situation was diffused. 

“You did! You did.”

“Now, would you be a doll and grab me another beer, since you so rudely spilled my last one?” He said, pointing to the can floating nearby.

B.J. shook his head, still laughing, and waded over to get them both another one.

***

They had skipped the actual wedding and most of the bridesmaid speeches. Both of them had seen it before and they figured there wouldn’t be anything new. If B.J. was honest, he was glad that Hawkeye didn’t pry when he said that he would rather not go to the ceremony. He just joked that he must be embarrassed to be seen with a dress code breaker. But they were at the reception now, drinking and talking and laughing. B.J. found the whole wedding a lot more enjoyable when he had somebody to watch it with. The music was loud, and most of the other guests were out on the dance floor.

They had found themselves at the same table where B.J. had approached Hawk on that first night. Hawk had just left to go get more drinks from the bar, which they probably didn’t need. He was still nursing his last one. B.J. was watching Hawkeye talk to the bartender, who’s name - Hawk had informed him- was Igor. He was trying to ignore how it felt watching Hawk laugh while talking to him.

“I was wondering when I would see you!”

He turned back towards the dance floor to see Margaret walking towards him. She was carrying her heels in one hand and holding a drink in the other.

“Margaret! Congratulations! You look beautiful.”

He gave her a hug, trying not to spill her drink. She pressed her nose into his cheek.

“Thank you, thank you.” She said, pulling back. She was grinning from ear to ear and gave a little spin, showing off her dress, “Why aren’t you out there dancing?”

“Oh, you know, bad feet.”

She held up her heels.

“I’ve been in these for god knows how long, I think you can last a dance.”

He glanced back over to Hawkeye, who was still at the bar. A couple of other wedding guests who he didn't recognize had walked up, and they were now all talking.

“I need to mentally prepare myself,” He said, turning his gaze back to Margaret, “Give me a little bit and I’ll get out there.”

“Great, I’ll wait with you.” She said, hopping up onto one of the barstools at the table. “I needed a break.”

She put her heels down, next to all the cups that B.J. and Hawkeye had accumulated over the night.

“So,” Margaret said, “I see that you’ve been hanging out with Pierce.”

“Who?”

“Pierce, you know,” She paused, waiting for some form of recognition, “Hawkeye?”

“Oh, Hawk!”

It hadn’t crossed B.J.’s mind that Hawkeye might have other names, or that it might be a nickname. Of course, it was, he realized now. But in the grand scheme of crazy things that had happened to him over the last couple of days, Hawkeye being a real name didn’t rank on the list. He wondered what else he didn't know about him. 

“Yes! Hawkeye!” She said, “I can’t believe that he’s wearing swim trunks to my wedding.”

He laughed at that. When they had gotten back from the pool, he had tried to convince him to wear something else to no avail. Hawk had said that technically he was wearing a suit and that putting on the required attire would break his ‘little effort as possible’ rule. B.J. had still put on his suit, sans tie. He had figured that anything he wore would look okay next to Hawkeye’s swimsuit.

“You know, Hunnicutt, Pierce is one of my oldest friends.”

“Really?” “Yeah, he’s been getting on my nerves since college. We were lab partners for orgo freshman year, and he used to drive me crazy. He never took anything seriously, would sing in the lab, was constantly cracking jokes with the TAs.” She was smiling now, “But he always delivered on work, so I never switched partners.”

“Mmm.”

“Later, I ended up dating a real jerk. I would sometimes complain during labs and he would tell me to break it off with him, that I deserved better, but I never did.” She paused, taking a sip of her drink, “And then I found out that not only was he cheating on me, but I was the side piece. I showed up on his doorstep, crying my eyes out - because I couldn’t miss our study group. He took one look at me, said ‘I told you so’ and then brought me inside. He made me french toast to make me feel better.”

He didn’t really understand why she was telling him all of this. He was friends with Margaret, obviously good enough friends for her to invite him to her wedding, but they had never talked so candidly about this kind of stuff. He never heard stories about her life before they met. He guessed he rarely told her about his.

“B.J.,” She said, turning to look at him “don’t be an idiot with him okay?”

Oh. He understood now.

“No, Margaret,” He stumbled, “It’s nothing like that.”

She gave him a look, an eyebrow raised, and took another sip of her drink.

“If you say so,” She said, obviously unconvinced.

Before he could protest more, she jumped off her chair and grabbed B.J.'s arm, pulling him towards the dance floor. “I gave you a couple of minutes, it's time for you to get out there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this chapter took so long to post. It's been a crazy month! Also, thank you to everyone who's read and left kudos and comments! It means the world that people like my silly little fic.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> parties as a love language and unsafe fire handling

The continental breakfast actually wasn’t that bad. BJ had learned to steer clear of the rubbery eggs and the bland turkey sausages, and by now had his meal down pat. Every morning he would get a bowl of Rice Krispies, a cup of honey-flavored Greek yogurt, and a couple of mini-muffins. The mini-muffins were sickeningly sweet, but he kept getting them anyway. The blueberries were enough to trick himself into thinking they were healthy.

After he finished, he would get up, clear his place, and walk over to the coffee station. He had learned how Hawkeye liked his coffee by now, two creams on the side. He had asked early why Hawk didn’t want him to mix the creams in for him, to which he answered that he liked having the choice of how much cream he put in. B.J. had never seen him not put in both the creams. 

Then, he’d walk to Hawk’s room and wait outside until his alarm went off. He had gotten the timing pretty down pat, so he never had to wait long. It was a nice routine. God knows he needed the stability. 

After that first day at the pool, Hawkeye had insisted on coming up with something for them to do every day. It was sweet and only made him feel a little guilty for saying anything at all. More often than not, it ended up being some kind of variation of drinking in the desert - not that B.J. minded. It was nice to just lay in the sand and watch the clouds sometimes. 

Hawkeye had pulled out the stops a couple of times. There was a ranch nearby that they’d go to, and they had gotten to know the owner, Sherman, pretty well. Or as well as you could get to know someone over the course of one day. Enough to know if they brought over a bottle of something to share he would let them ride the horses. 

They had given each other tattoos (small mistake), plane jacked a crop duster (big mistake), driven to the coast (delightful outing), and spent days racking their brains from what to do for the next cycle. And when they grew tired of drinking in the desert, they always had the wedding. 

The last time that they had gotten dangerously drunk in the desert, Hawkeye ended up sobbing after B.J. had joked that Thanksgiving was coming up soon. It wasn’t even a joke, just something stupid that came out of B.J.’s mouth. Talking through his tears, Hawkeye said how he would never be able to see the sunrise over the Maine coast, go fishing at his beach, or be able to sit down for a meal with his father again. B.J. could only offer a shoulder, words had escaped him.

They hadn’t exactly talked much about their predicament. Of course, B.J. was upset by it, but he didn’t let himself think too much about it. He couldn’t. He had packed it away in a shoebox and put it as far back into his mind as it could go. 

Hawkeye hadn’t mentioned it since, but B.J. hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. Without Hawk in here with him, he didn’t know where he would be. He probably would’ve driven into the Grand Canyon by now, not that that would make any difference. He wished he could fix this whole thing. He wanted to make it up to him.

So today’s routine was different. He had skipped breakfast this morning, rushing around town for the couple of hours before Hawkeye woke up. He was now waiting patiently outside of Hawkeye’s room, reading the local paper. He had read it what felt like a thousand times before, but he was just trying to pass the time. And to look as inconspicuous as possible. He did want Hawk to suspect anything. 

People passed him in the hallway, giving him strange looks. He just smiled at them, flipping through the pages, eyes lazily looking over the local headlines and ads. 

10:35. He heard the beep of Hawkeye’s alarm through the door. Getting himself up, he folded the paper and picked up the coffee just as Hawkeye opened the door. He had tossed a robe on top of his pajamas - if you could call an undershirt and boxers pajamas. 

“Good morning,” B.J. said, holding the cup out to a very tired looking Hawkeye. 

“Thanks,” He mumbled, taking the cup and holding the door open for B.J., who followed him inside.

He went to go sit in the office chair while Hawk sat back down on his bed, just like they did every morning. Hawk’s room was a mess, and every time B.J. saw it he wondered what Hawk’s night before had been like. There were clothes strewn across the floor, shoes on the bed, and a couple of beer cans on the side table and on the floor. The only non-mess was Hawkeye’s suit, still hanging on the door of the closet, ready to never be worn. 

“You grab the creams?” Hawk asked, just as B.J. pulled them out of his pocket, “Thanks.”

Hawkeye turned on the TV, letting it run in the background. It was some local talk show, highlighting weekend events that would never come. They sat like this for a while, B.J. half watching while Hawk finished drinking his coffee. 

“Beej, wanna hear what delights and wonders I have planned for today?” Hawkeye said, breaking the silence. 

“Actually, I have something in mind.”

“Oh, you do?” Hawkeye smiled, seeming to finally wake up, “What kind of schemes do you have up your sleeves?”

“If I told you, then it wouldn’t be a scheme.” B.J. quipped back, and then caught himself, “But I was just thinking we could go to Rosie’s.”

“Really? That’s what you want to do?” Hawkeye sounded surprised, and B.J. couldn’t blame him. They had been there a handful of times, and it was just as divey as the first time. Hawkeye had told him once that the bar clashed with his _Shiny Happy People_ facade, which he didn’t know how to take. 

“I’m getting sick of drinking in the sun.”

Hawkeye gave him a look. A look that insinuated that he knew that B.J. was up to something. Which he was, but he thought he was doing a better job covering it up. 

“Look,” B.J. said, “I know that you’re from Maine and think that California is all sunny and warm year-round, but San Francisco was in the fifties whenever yesterday was and I’m getting tired of the heat.”

“Alright,” Hawkeye said after a moment, “Who am I to turn down a drink?”

***

B.J. had waited for Hawk in the hall. Even after all this time, he still insisted on privacy while he changed. He had figured that he would be better at being nonchalant, but he hadn’t factored in the fact that they had spent the last bit of forever hanging out. He tried not to pace, relying on the newspaper once again to do most of the heavy lifting. 

B.J. almost broke the character on walking out to the car. He was so busy worrying about acting normal that he had forgotten that he had packed the trunk already. Hawkeye gave him a side-eye but luckily didn’t say anything. 

Driving had become another part of the routine for him. Wherever they needed to go, he was their chauffeur and Hawkeye was their DJ. Listening to the radio became head-bangingly annoying once you know what song they’re going to play next.

Hawk plugged his phone into the aux, scrolling through to find the set of the day while BJ started the car. As soon as he turned on the stereo, the synths of _Once in a Lifetime_ blared through the car. 

B.J. groaned and turned to Hawkeye, who was already grinning. 

“Oh, so the man who likes Coldplay is going to lecture me about music?”

“That’s a low blow,” B.J. replied.

“It’s not my fault that your dad didn’t indoctrinate you into the New Wave cult from a young age.”

Hawkeye pushed his seat back and kicked his feet onto the dash. 

“You’re right, it’s not my fault,” he said, backing out of the lot, “So I don’t see why you have to punish me with playing it.”

He didn’t even hate the Talking Heads, but it seemed to entertain Hawkeye to think that he did. It was more about completing the dance than anything else. 

“I’d let you play your dad music,” Hawk continued, “What did your dad listen to, smooth jazz? Yacht rock?”

“Something like that,” B.J. responded, a little more prickly than intended. 

David Byrnes' voice wafted through the car, filling in for their conversation. He didn’t mean to be so on edge, but he desperately wanted this to go right. He knew that Hawkeye knew something was up, and he also knew that Hawkeye knew that. It was a fun recursive side effect of hanging out with someone for forever. 

_Same as it ever was. Same as it was. Same as it ever was._

“Are you gonna tell me the real reason you want to go to Rosie’s?” Hawkeye asked after a couple of minutes. 

“I already told you,” B.J. responded, trying to stay cool, “I’m tired of the sun.”

“Mmhmm,” Hawkeye rolled his eyes, “You know, Beej, you’re a terrible liar.”

He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, hoping that Hawkeye hadn’t noticed. He probably had. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t know what I’m talking about my ass, Beej! You all the sudden want to go to this dump of a bar, you’ve got all kinds of shit in the trunk! You might be able to fool everyone else with your Californian ways, but not me.”

“I don’t know which ‘Californian Ways’ I’m using, but your Puritan is showing, witch-hunter.”

“Beej, come on. I thought we were partners-in-crime.”

“Which approach are you gonna try next, pressing me with stones?”

“B.J.”

“Can’t a guy just want to get drinks at a bar?”

He glanced at Hawkeye, trying not to look too desperate.

“Fine!” Hawkeye resigned, crossing his arms, “But the next time you scheme, I want in on it.”

“Once again,” he said, keeping his voice light, “There’s no scheme.”

Hawkeye turned up the stereo, to spite him B.J. was sure. 

Finally, after what felt like ages and was only extended by the continuation of Hawkeye’s DJing, he pulled into Rosie’s parking lot. It was still early enough that they were one of maybe three cars in the lot. Luckily, there was an open spot right near the door, and B.J. pulled right in. 

Getting out, he half jogged over to the passenger’s side to open the door for Hawkeye. 

“Why, thank you, valet. Do I tip upfront or when I pick it up?”

“Only when you pick it up. Come on”

He grabbed Hawkeye’s wrist, dragging him towards the building. He knew that he was being weird and he was sure that this was probably going to be too much, but he didn’t care.

“Wait,” He said, stopping right before the door, “Hawk, close your eyes.”

“What?”

“Please,” He said, throwing out any concerns of sounding desperate. 

“Fine!” Hawkeye said, dramatically covering his eyes with his hands, “You know, for a simple and nonsuspicious trip to Rosie’s this sure isn’t helping your case.”

He ignored that comment. 

B.J. pulled open the door, and then pulled Hawk inside. Letting go of Hawk’s arms, he gave Rizzo the signal. 

“Okay, Hawkeye,” He said, “You can open them.”

Hawkeye did, just in time for the confetti to fall on them. Inside there were the usual patrons, but there were also streamers, balloons, and a sign that read, “Happy Millionth Birthday Jackass”. It looked better than B.J. could’ve hoped. He had even gotten Rosie to wear a party hat. He turned back towards Hawkeye, unable to contain his smile. 

“Well,” He smiled, watching Hawkeye take it all in, “Surprise!”

“You did this for me?” 

“I figured that you had a couple to catch up on.” 

Hawkeye was now grinning from ear to ear, laughing and taking it all in. He reached out towards B.J., grabbing onto his shirt and pulling him closer. B.J.was glad that Hawkeye wasn’t looking at him, by how warm his cheeks felt he was sure he was bright pink. 

“This is beautiful!” Hawkeye turned towards B.J., still smiling, “Hold on, you’ve got some confetti.”

Hawkeye brushed the confetti out of his hair. He wondered if Hawkeye knew what he was doing. He forced the feeling back into the shoebox. He didn’t need to complicate this. Besides, he had a party to host.

“There, that’s better.” 

“Wait, there’s more,” He said, trying to cover it up, “I got you a cake too.”

“What are we standing around here for then!” 

It was Hawk’s turn to grab B.J.’s arm. He wondered how much a shoebox could hold.

***

They ended up fully skipping the wedding. It turned out, along with setting up everything at Rosie’s, B.J. had also gotten camping supplies and stopped by Francis’s room. So they drove out into the middle of the desert and set up camp far away from anything else to enjoy an enhanced night under the stars. Well, B.J. drove, but they had set up the tent together - after struggling with the instructions. 

Hawkeye was glad that it was just the two of them, especially after this morning. He couldn’t remember the last time that somebody had thrown him a party. Maybe when he graduated med school? Or finished residency? This was different, though. 

Seeing how happy B.J. looked this morning - happiness caused by doing something for him - proved something to him. He didn’t know what it proved yet. Maybe that it showed that B.J. actually liked him. That he wasn’t some consolation prize - a temporary thing to be tossed out eventually. He knew what he hoped that it proved, but he tried not to dwell on it. B.J. had made it quite clear at the beginning of this what his feelings were. No complications. 

The sun had set a while ago, and they were currently sitting around a fire B.J. had insisted on starting. Their camping chairs were just slightly too far apart in Hawkeye’s opinion, but he didn’t want to be the one to move first. 

They had been passing joints between them for the past couple of hours. Hawkeye had gotten higher than he had meant to. It felt like the desert was the only thing that existed and there were twice as many stars as usual. Honestly, neither one of those things were out of the realm of possibilities considering their situation. 

B.J. had draped a blanket over him during one of his rants earlier - ever the helper. He was grateful for it, the desert got so cold after the sun went down. They had meandered from topic to topic, Hawkeye doing his best to edge B.J.’s tipping point. It was self-sabotage, but that was his most honed skill. 

He was now eating a chocolate bar, using it as a prop to argue another bullshit point. 

“Think of it like this. Everything in this void, the space where the candy bar once was but is now in my stomach, is the past.” He said.

B.J. nodded, looking slightly more upset with each word. 

“And everything that's remaining is the future encased in chocolate.” He continued, “I have no interest in this emptiness, you know, the who, what, why of your past. You got here, that's all that matters.”

“But,” B.J. interrupted, obviously flustered, “It matters if you want to know somebody deeper. It does!”

“I disagree.” Hawkeye volleyed back, “The next bite is all that matters.”

There was a lull in the conversation, and nothing to fill it. 

He didn’t actually believe half the stuff that was coming out of mouth right now. He knew that he was frustrating B.J., but he couldn’t stop. He had started the dance, and now he had to perform till the end. He knew that he was essentially whacking B.J. away with a yardstick, but it was better that he give him a reason rather than be left alone with none.

He took another bite out of the chocolate bar. It felt quieter out here than usual. The only sound was the quiet crackle of the fire. Maybe they were the only people left. 

“I used to be married,” B.J. said, quietly interrupting the silence. 

“What?”

Hawkeye turned to look at B.J., but he was staring up at the stars, seemingly avoiding looking back.

“Yeah,” He responded, “Peg and I got married right out of high school. We were going to the same college, and our parents really pushed for it. Sometimes I think they knew something that we didn’t.”

He was wringing his hands together. The glow of the fire was highlighting his face. He was talking real slow. It was a stark contrast to how he usually talked. 

“I came home after a shift, it was late. I had just gotten out of residency, so my schedule was all over the place. When I walked in, there was Peg and her friend Jenny, watching TV, curled up together on the couch, and they were kissing. When they saw me, Peg got up and tried to say something, but I started laughing.” 

He chuckled.

“I don’t know why, but I couldn’t stop. It was so ridiculous to me. And then I told Peg that I was gay. And then she started laughing. I mean, we had essentially been playing house for ten years. I think we both knew, deep down, that something wasn’t clicking. But...”

He faded off. For a second the only sounds once again were the crackling of the fire. B.J. still wouldn’t look at Hawkeye, he was now staring right into the fire. Hawkeye hadn’t taken his eyes off him the entire time. He wished that B.J. would look back. 

“We have a daughter too, Erin. She’s the best. She turned six in June, and she’s already reading chapter books. I mean, we’re reading them to her, and it’s all _Magic Tree House_ and the like, but she’s getting into them.”

“That was actually how Margaret and I became good friends, we were both getting divorced at the same time. Just happened to be a coincidence that we were doing it for the same reason. I guess I’m lucky that Peg’s a swell gal, it went as smooth as a divorce can go. I remember Margaret had the worst time with Donald, now he was a grade-A asshole. The biggest thing that we had to deal with was custody.”

“Wow,” Hawkeye said, the words escaping his lips.

He finally turned to Hawkeye. He looked a little surprised like he was expecting Hawk to be gone. 

“Oh god, Have I been talking too long? I didn’t-” 

“No, no, no,” Hawk stuttered, scooting his camping chair towards B.J. so he could be right next to him. He grabbed onto B.J. sleeve, hoping to offer some comfort, “You’re good. It’s good. It’s great! You’re fantastic!”

“Well,” B.J. said, now looking right at Hawkeye. “Don’t you feel like you know me better now?”

Hawkeye didn’t know what to say. So instead of saying anything, he took the candy bar and chucked it into the fire. It went up in a bright orange blaze.

“Hawk, what the hell!”

“You won! I don’t need it anymore.”

B.J. stared at him like he didn’t know what to do with him. Then he started to laugh. And then Hawk started to laugh. 

“You’re ridiculous,” B.J. blurted out through laughs. 

“I think we’re both ridiculous,” Hawkeye chimed back. 

“Cheers,” B.J. said, “To two ridiculous people in a ridiculous situation in the most ridiculous place in the world.”

He passed the latest joint to Hawkeye, who took it and took a hit. 

“Your turn.”

Hawkeye coughed, “What?”

“Are you gonna tell me anything about yourself? I feel like I really laid everything out there.”

“Hmm,” Hawkeye passed it back to B.J. He couldn’t think of anything.

 _Had it really been that long?_ he thought. 

“Come on, there’s gotta be something you want to share.”

“Ummm,” He thought, trying to come up with something. Maybe he shouldn’t have taken that last hit, “My name’s actually Benjamin Franklin, Hawkeye’s just a nickname.”

“If my name was Benjamin Franklin, I’d be looking for a nickname too,” B.J. responded with his usual banter.

“My dad gave it to me. It’s from _Last of the Mohicans_.”

“Your dad sure gave you a lot.”

“Huh?”

“Music taste, nickname. All my dad gave to me was a complex.”

Hawkeye didn’t know how to respond. He knew that B.J. was looking for something back, but he didn’t want to admit how little he could remember about before today. He turned to look at the fire.

There was Crabapple Cove. There was his dad. There was med school. There was...

“That’s it?”

“You know,” Hawkeye said, grateful for the interruption, “Whatever Francis puts in this shit really is something.”

“Too bad we’re smoking it in the most ridiculous place,” B.J. said, not missing a beat.

“Well, I just feel sorry for you. You just won’t appreciate the beauty of where we find ourselves.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well if you feel sorry for me, that must mean that you care about me.”

That took Hawkeye back. 

“What?”

“You can’t feel sorry for things you don’t care about,” B.J. said, quieter this time. It felt different than the banter that they had taken up moments ago. 

“Yeah, but you know. You’ll drift away, just like, uh, everything else.”

“Like what?” 

Hawkeye turned to B.J. taking his eyes off the fire.

“Like everything.”

There was an expression on B.J.’s face. His blue eyes seemed to be looking right into him. Or through him. He didn’t know if there was a difference at this point. You would think that after however long they’d be in this mess, he’d be any better at reading him. But B.J. could still be an enigma when he wanted to. 

He looked back to the horizon, away from B.J.’s gaze. He was still holding onto his sleeve, tight. He didn’t know how long it had been. Time in here felt different, especially when B.J. was around. 

It was then he saw something moving out on the horizon. Something huge, lumbering across the line. Something that he definitely hadn’t seen before. 

“Well that’s new,” He said. 

There were, what looked like, honest-to-god dinosaurs in the middle of the Palm Springs desert in what once was 2019. It was beautiful, in some strange way. 

“Oh my god,” He heard B.J. whisper.

“You see them too?”

“Are they real?”

“Does it matter?”

Hawkeye realized that he was no longer holding onto B.J. sleeve. He looked down, pulling his eyes away from whatever it was on the horizon. He was now holding onto B.J.’s hand, their fingers intertwined.

He squeezed his hand, just to make sure that it was real and not some funny trick that his brain had decided to play on him. He waited, just a moment. B.J. squeezed back. 

He figured out what the party had proven. 

He looked up towards B.J., who was staring right back at him. 

It was almost completely silent now. The fire was burning down, giving off a subtle glow. 

“Beej,” He said, quietly, almost a whisper. 

That was all he was able to get out before B.J.’s lips crashed against his. B.J.’s hand grasped the back of his neck, pulling him in. His mustache tickled Hawkeye’s nose. 

Hawkeye reached up, grabbing B.J.’s hair. He needed to make sure that this was real, that it was happening. He didn’t know when his heart started beating at a hundred miles a minute, but it had no intent on slowing down. 

B.J. broke away, moving to kiss along Hawkeye’s jawline. He was so gentle. He moved lower, lingering on Hawk’s neck. He was sure that some of them were going to leave marks. Well, they would if they weren’t stuck in here. He tried to push away that thought, and B.J. was all too willing to help. 

He pulled B.J. back up, kissing him deeper. He felt like this could go forever. Maybe it would. David Byrne was right, If there was a heaven this is what it would be. When this kiss ended, another would begin. He wondered if B.J. would be annoyed that he was thinking of a Talking Heads song right now. 

That thought was interrupted when Hawkeye felt his chair shift beneath him. 

Hawkeye pulled away from B.J., hands still holding on.

“Hawk,” B.J. faltered, “I-”

“I think my chair is about to collapse.”

B.J. stared at him, then started laughing. It was a deep laugh.

“You’re such a bastard!” 

“We’ve got the tent,” Hawkeye suggested. 

“As good a time as any to get in-tents,” B.J. said, with a big grin. 

“That was bad,” Hawkeye said, standing up and pulling B.J. up with him.

“You love it,” B.J. said, wrapping his arm around Hawkeye’s shoulder.

“Yeah. You’re right.”

Hawkeye was half carrying B.J., they were leaning on each other so much. It was nice, being this close. B.J. was warm and easy to hold. It was like he was made to be held. Hawkeye dragged his fingers through his hair. He needed the three points of contact to make sure he didn’t fall. 

They both stumbled into the tent. The orange glow of the dying fire shined in. Hawkeye zipped it up behind them.

***

There was a little part of B.J. that hoped that they would wake up back in the tent. That they could wake up facing each other - holding each other. The dew from the desert night would cling to their tent, as they packed up. He could drive them to a diner, where they could tell each other how they liked their eggs. If they liked hash browns or home fries. They would sit there until the sun went down without having to worry about anything. They could… continue. 

He knew that was ridiculous, but when he was jerked awake by his phone it stung a little more than usual. The hotel bed felt colder. 

His phone was still going off, and he was brought back into reality. This was going to be the same morning as every other morning that he’s had to live through. It didn’t matter what he did. It didn’t matter how he did it. He was going to keep waking up in here, to this phone call. He realized that the shoebox was breaking down.

He answered the phone.

“Morning Er-bear,” He said, pushing all that back down, “How’s breakfast?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I listened to a lot of Talking Heads while writing this chapter :)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> driving won't solve a spiral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for violence and police in this chapter. if you want to skip it, it starts at the line "The car started to slow as B.J. pulled over to the side of the road." and ends at the section break and then another starting at “I’m getting out of this day.” and ending at that section break. if you've seen palm springs, it is just the Roy cop scene.

Hawkeye had been the only one talking this entire car ride, which should’ve been more of a red flag than he was registering. He had noticed that B.J. had been a little quieter than usual this morning, but had chalked it up to last night. He had been trying not to think too deeply about it. It was probably nothing. 

They had been driving for a while, following some old highway that meandered through the desert. They didn’t have anywhere to go; they were just driving for driving’s sake. Hawkeye didn’t mind. Doing nothing was fine. 

He was rambling again when he realized the B.J. definitely wasn’t listening to him. There were no usual _m_ _m-hmm_ s coming from his side of the car. None of B.J.’s usual indulgences into Hawkeye’s raving. When Hawkeye wasn’t talking, the only sound was the music he had put on for B.J. and the sound of the tires going over pavement that hadn’t been repatched in decades. B.J.’s eyes kept darting to the rear-view mirror and back. 

“B.J.,” He said.

No response. Hawkeye turned down the music, seeing if that helped. Maybe B.J. thought he was making fun of him. 

“Beej,” He tried again, touching his arm. 

That seemed to jerk B.J. back into this reality.

“Sorry, sorry. What?”

“Nothing, you just seemed out of it. ”

“Sorry, I’m just—uh—a little preoccupied.”

“No worries,” Hawkeye said, definitely worried.

B.J. went back to driving in silence. His knuckles were starting to turn white. 

Neither one of them had mentioned last night yet. With each passing minute, the pit in Hawkeye’s stomach grew. He knew that he probably had messed this whole thing up. That he should’ve taken his own advice—a little effort as possible. But it didn’t feel like effort with B.J... Even if it did, he would be happy to put all the effort in the world into making sure he was happy, that he was okay. 

Hawkeye brought it up. 

“It felt different waking up this morning,” He started, checking to see that B.J. was listening. “You know, cause of last night.”

“Mm-hmm,” was all that B.J. gave in return. 

“Beej, I had a really good time yesterday. You really pulled out all the stops.”

“Yeah?”

“Did you have fun?”

“Yeah, oh yeah,” He responded, just as tightly as before. 

“Beej, are you okay?”

“I just—” He paused. “I can’t keep waking up in here.”

Hawkeye reached back over, putting his hand on his shoulder. 

“Hey, it’s okay. The waking ups are always weird. But maybe going to bed has just got a little better,” Hawkeye waited, “Right?”

“This cop has been following us for like 5 miles.”

“What?” Hawkeye turned to see what B.J. was talking about. Sure enough, there was a cop driving behind them. 

“What is this guy’s deal?”

B.J. started to speed up. Well, flooring it might have been a better term. Hawkeye was slammed back into his seat. Sure enough, the lights and sirens went on.

“There we go.”

“Beej—uh—what are you doing?”

“You know, I have never been arrested before. Haven’t you ever wondered what it’s like?”

“Not particularly, no,” Hawkeye said, now gripping the roof handle with one hand and B.J.’s arm with the other. He was doing his best to keep his voice steady, looking straight ahead. “Hey, Beej, why don’t we slow down?”

B.J. was back to not listening to him. 

Hawkeye turned around again, trying to get a better view of the cop car behind them. He got a glimpse of the driver. Just his luck.

“No, no, no, no, no.” He said, his voice starting to waver. “B.J., I think it’s him.” 

“Him?”

“Frank—I think it might be Frank.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Maybe let’s not slow down. Driver, onward.”

“Hawk, this is our chance,” B.J. said, suddenly energetic. Suddenly wanting to include him.

The car started to slow as B.J. pulled over to the side of the road. The car behind them followed their lead, turning off the sirens as they parked.

‘“Please step out of the vehicle,” A voice blasted over the stereo.

“We can just drive into the desert and wake up tomorrow like none of this ever happened.”

“Someone has to take care of this guy.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He’s just going to keep coming up here!”

“No, no one has to take care of this!”

B.J. was already getting out of the car.

“Beej, I’m serious. B.J.!”

Hawkeye hit the seat as B.J. yelled at the cop, no doubt throwing Hawkeye under the bus, that lying bastard. 

He tried to get a better look at the driver, who was now out of the car but still barking orders over a megaphone. Maybe it wasn’t Frank. There wasn’t that usually ferrety odor of fur and brimstone that followed him. Maybe it was a regular guy.

“Sir, please step out of the vehicle.”

It sure didn’t sound like Frank.

He got out of the vehicle.

“Sorry, officer. I thought you were somebody else,” He put his hands up and turned around. 

“You should go with your first instincts, lounge lizard.”

Oh fuck. 

Before Frank could say any other genius-to-himself quips, he was promptly clipped by B.J., who was now in the driver’s seat of the cop car. He backed up, leaving Frank to crumple to the ground. 

“You call for backup?” B.J. called out, stepping out of the car.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Come on.” B.J. was walking towards Hawkeye. “I just clipped him.”

Frank moaned from the ground, in what Hawkeye assumed was in opposition of B.J.’s statement.

“That was not a clip.”

Before B.J. could say anything in response, another set of sirens started as a motorcycle cop drove into view. Of course Frank would call for backup even when playing pretend. 

The cop parked, and getting off his bike yelled out, “Freeze! Put your hand above your head!”

Hawkeye did just that, not wanting to continue this nightmare for any longer, while B.J. started yelling. 

“What are you going to do, Officer Dick-Face?”

“We’re—uh—dealing with something right now,” Hawkeye called, trying to save the guy from whatever B.J. was currently going through, “We’ve got it under control.”

“What are you going to do? Are you going to tase me?” B.J. yelled, proving Hawkeye’s last statement wrong. He was now standing in front of Hawkeye, blocking his view. “You going to tase me, little man?”

“I’m serious!” The cop called out.

“Uh—Beej, maybe not the best time to—”

He was interrupted as B.J. moved, clearing his view just in time to see that the cop had pulled out his taser. B.J. apparently had better reflexes than the cop.

So, _that’s_ what being tased felt like. 

Hawkeye fell to the ground, only vaguely hearing B.J. continued harassment in the background. It was drowned out by the ringing in his ears. 

He was facing Frank, who was still crumpled at the back of his car. He really did look terrible, and Hawkeye half felt bad for him. 

“Who the hell is he?” Frank garbled, spitting blood out of his mouth.

***

They were now sitting in silence on the side of the road; handcuffed waiting for backup. Hawkeye was still twitchy from the taser and something was dripping from his eye that—judging from the sharp pain—wasn’t a tear. 

The tension in the air was only a slight downgrade from the tension in the car.

“What’s going on with you?” Hawkeye broke the silence, once again.

“That did get a little out of hand.”

Hawkeye turned towards B.J., looking at him for the first time since they got shoved into handcuffs. 

“You think?”

As soon as they made eye contact, B.J. burst into laughter. “Sorry. Sorry!”

“Nice, nice. A guy knocks you over and laughs while you’re twitching.”

“Are you seriously upset?”

“Yeah Beej, I have this fun little aversion to pain and I hadn’t put getting tased in my day planner so this is all a little unexpected.”

“C’mon, that’ll go away. We’ll fall asleep and wake up right back here tomorrow and the next day and the next day.”

“Oh, so that’s it. Our predicament has finally gotten to you?”

“I just have this fun little aversion to being stuck in a time loop. But I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“Oh, really? You think I don’t care?”

“You sure put on a great show.”

“Have you forgotten that I’ve been stuck here longer than you? You think I don’t miss my home—my family?”

“Boo-hoo! So your dad gets to stay, what? 60? 61? How terrible! He’s only a six-hour flight away. I will _never_ get to see Erin grow up. You could keep living in here, boozing it up forever, and I bet it wouldn’t even differ that much from what you did before. You are _not_ stuck here like I am!”

“Being a menace isn’t going to fix that,” Hawkeye said, trying to stay supportive. Trying to remember that B.J. didn’t mean it—that it wasn’t him. “Whatever you’re going through isn’t an excuse.”

B.J. was staring back at him, and for a moment Hawkeye thought he had broken through. 

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious! The pain we inflict on others is real. It doesn’t matter that they forget, _we_ still have to live with it!”

“I’ll remember that when it’s a person and not a maniac who I watched hunt you for sport! God, I’ve wanted to pull his teeth out of his stupid head ever since.”

“It still counts. I don’t need you to hit him with a car.”

“I took care of it. In fact, I’ve been taking care of you since I followed you into that goddamn cave. You should be thanking me!”

“I told you not to follow me, or did you leave that part out in your autobiography?”

“I followed you into that cave because I liked you and you had gotten shot with an arrow if you forgot. If I knew that I was going to be stuck with a neurotic jackass for all eternity I would’ve stayed far, far away from you—Hippocratic oath be damned. And I sure would’ve never slept with you!”

Hawkeye looked at B.J., taken aback. He kept trying to convince himself that B.J. didn’t really mean it, but that voice was quickly being drowned. _Of course, he meant it—Of course, he hates you—You really thought that you were anything more than a cheap replacement for the real world? You’re so fucking pathetic._

He felt something in his chest snap. 

“And you’re such a delight to be around? Please, you’re a bundle of neurosis hidden in an apple pie! You’re not the unknowable fortress you think you are, Hunnicutt. In fact, you’re the same as every other Californian WASP Margaret invited to this stupid wedding!” 

B.J. opened his mouth to say something, but Hawkeye kept going. 

“And you know what? We’ve fucked like a thousand times before! All it took was one Kipling quote in that stupid speech—”

“What?” B.J. interrupted. “What did you say?”

Hawkeye realized that he had gone too far about ten seconds too late. 

“I lied, okay? I—I lied! You got stuck in here, and I didn’t want to tell you. Especially not after your little _not now_ comment. It was different before—everything just reset anyway. So I lied!”

B.J. didn’t look angry, like a couple of moments ago. He didn’t look anything. Whatever was going through his head, however much he hated Hawkeye he wasn’t showing it. He just stared at Hawkeye, stone-faced.

“I’m getting out of this day.” 

B.J. turned away from Hawkeye, struggling before getting up. He walked across the lane, ignoring the threats from the motorcycle cop currently waiting for back-up. 

“Beej,” Hawkeye said, desperately trying to get his attention. “I’m sorry. Beej, Beej!”

B.J. was still ignoring Hawkeye when he stepped in front of the semi-truck.

***

Hawkeye woke up to his alarm clock. He stared at the ceiling, letting it beep until someone next door started thumping the wall. 

There weren't any polite knocks on the door like B.J. usually did when he didn’t get up. Hawkeye knew he wasn’t out there. Why would he be, after everything that happened yesterday? After what Hawkeye had done. 

He went to open his door, only to find an empty hallway. 

There it was—he drifted away. At least he gave B.J. a reason. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it keeps going and going and going and going and-

Being alone again was worse than he had expected. 

At first, Hawkeye hoped that it was just going to be for a day or two. That B.J. would come back and Hawkeye could apologize for everything—for himself mostly, but everything else too. 

And then it had been a week. And then a couple of weeks. He stopped counting after a month and a half. 

He felt even more pathetic than before he had gotten B.J. stuck in here. At least then Hawkeye could hide behind the guise of not caring—of keeping it as simple as possible. Now he knew what it was like to share it with someone. And now that B.J. was gone, Hawkeye had nothing to distract him from to hole that he had left. 

Other people were starting to notice. He tried not to let it show, but he was never very good at hiding his mania. 

So what he had been acting a little more erratically than usual, why should he care?

“You know, B.J.! He’s got this stupid mustache and—and he wears clown shoes. Come on, you have to know him!”

Maybe he was acting a lot more erratically.

He had gotten far too drunk far too early in the morning and was now yelling at the general audience of the wedding party. They were whispering and exchanging glances while pointedly avoiding eye-contact with him.

“Who even is this?” One of them whispered.

“One of Margaret’s east-coast-friends,” another one responded, in a much less hushed tone than she probably intended. 

“Look I just want to know where he’s staying. One of you has to know!”

Luckily Margaret wasn’t in attendance. She was off getting the final touches ready, ever the micromanager. He didn’t think he’d be able to face her if she witnessed this whole debacle, even if she wouldn’t be able to remember it. 

Unluckily Lorraine was there and would be relaying it to her. She got up from her chair, her hair still half up in rollers, and quietly led Hawkeye out of the room. Her grip on his arm was a terse reminder of all the lines he had crossed.

He could hear the murmurs from everyone else confirming that fact.

“Pierce, maybe it’s best that you don’t come today,” She said to him once she had shut the door. At least she had saved him the embarrassment of retracting his invitation in front of all of Margaret’s other closest friends. “Why don’t you go sleep this off?”

He wanted to beg her to tell him where B.J. might be. He wanted to yell at her about how none of this matters because it will all be gone tomorrow. He wanted to break down and sob. 

Instead, he went back to his room and stared at the ceiling.

***

Even floating in the pool had become a slog. What once was his oasis from this whole shit show of a life that he found himself in now became a cruel reminder of how it once was not completely terrible. 

Everything had become a cruel reminder of B.J.—his pizza float ( _B.J. always told him how ridiculous Hawkeye looked while he floated by on his matching one_ ), the twelve-pack of beer ( _it was B.J. least favorite brand, a fact he reminded Hawkeye of every time he cracked another one open_ ), Rosie’s ( _Sometimes Hawkeye swore he could still see confetti falling while he day-drank another loop away_ ), the wedding ( _Hawkeye refused to look deeper into this_ ).

Sometimes he could drown it out, just lying under the hot sun while floating away. It was just like it used to be. He would wait till Klinger swam up, pass him a beer, and have the same conversation that he had had a million times before. He could pretend it was okay.

Most of the time he couldn’t, so he opted for getting blasted instead. 

***

The worst loops were when he ruined Margaret’s wedding. Well, maybe not ruin. Maybe _Adding Some Spice_ was a better term. It at least made him feel better about his behavior. 

He had gotten too drunk this time, and said something a little too loud or made a move a little too erratic. He honestly couldn’t remember what exactly it was he did. He did remember crying during the ceremony, to the discomfort of the poor sucker he had sat next to.

Hawkeye now found himself sitting against a brick wall just a little outside the venue. It was starting to cool down, which he appreciated as he was two swigs too deep and the heat on his cheeks was becoming uncomfortable. 

He was watching the party. The dance floor was still lit up but it was slowing down. That’s when he noticed Margaret walking over towards him, like a vision from the desert. 

“Hey you,” She said when she got close enough. 

“Sorry to be a self-loathing loser during your wedding, Marg,” Hawkeye slurred, “Lorraine’s a lucky gal.”

“I know she is,” Margaret said, sitting down next to him, “I’ll chew you out tomorrow about... this.” She gestured to his general state of decay. “So, are you going to talk about it?”

“Talk about what, Margaret?”

“Your alcohol choice for one.”

He looked down at the bottle of bourbon he had snatched while Igor wasn’t looking earlier. 

“I am usually more of a gin guy.” 

“Do you remember when you used to insist on bartending back in college? God, your martinis tasted like goddamn lighter fluid.”

“The trick is to use the cheapest gin you can find and to bow in the direction of France instead of using vermouth.”

This got a laugh out of her.

“There’s still a chance. Runaway with me. I’ll make you bad drinks every night if it makes you happy.”

“You think that would make me happy?”

“Fine, mediocre drinks—but that’s as good as I’ll go.”

“You know we’d be at each other’s throats before we hit the 5,” she said, pausing for a second, “now what’s eating you up?”

“Just the fact that my best friend in the whole world is gone and it’s my fault and he didn’t even say goodbye and now I’m alone—probably forever,” he rambled, gripping onto the bottle. “The wedding was fantastic though, Margaret. Those centerpieces are lovely. Did you pick them out or did Lorraine?”

Margaret pursed her lips, starting to reach her arm over his shoulder before pulling back.

“Hawk,” she said, “I know that you’ve been going through a lot. Break-ups are hard for everyone.”

“What?”

“You know, you’ll get over John and then you’ll find somebody even better,” she said, nicely patting his arm.

Oh yeah. That. The cause of his initial crawling-through-the-desert-and-into-strange-caves-while-drunk meltdown. Good ol’ Trapper John. It had been so long that he had forgotten to be heartbroken.

Jeez, he was pathetic—crying over the same break-up. At least Trap had had the decency to give him a real end with some bullshit about growing apart and different life plans, even if it was all after he had moved the majority of his stuff out of their apartment. B.J. had just vanished into the desert. He didn’t even know if he could count that as a break-up. 

That must be why Margaret wasn’t ripping him a new one for causing a scene.

He nodded, to let her know that he was listening. That was a mistake, as it only accentuated the spins that he was currently dealing with.

“It’s not—this isn’t about Trap.”

“It’s not? Well then,” she said, pulling back, “what possessed you to act like this during _my_ wedding?”

He probably shouldn't have corrected her.

“It’s a long story.”

“Good thing there is now plenty of time for you to explain now that you’ve scared away half the wedding guests with your terrible behavior. Pierce, I swear to—”

“It’s B.J.,” he said, not meaning to interrupt but doing so anyway. 

This seemed to shock her out of her growing anger. 

“Hunnicutt?”

He nodded, triggering the spins once again.

“We had a fight and I—he—I yelled at him and went too far, and he left. Didn’t even bother leaving a note. He’s just gone.” He took a swig of the bourbon and grimaced. “Must be me who stinks, huh?”

“I’m sorry, are we talking about the same B.J. Hunnicutt? Because last time I checked you two didn’t know each other. Much less have the time to orchestrate this epic tragedy you’re going on about.”

“Of course we know each other Margaret. We met at your wedding.”

“Pierce, what the fuck are you going on about?”

“I don’t expect you to understand Margaret. It’s a lot of me getting trapped in a time loop after crawling into a mysterious cave and that’s only the base reality of our scene. You can only imagine what happens when we find the game. Can I offer you a drink?”

“Are you ever going to make sense?”

“Probably not.”

“Just making sure.”

Hawkeye held the bottle out towards Margaret, who took it after a moment.

They sat there for a little bit in silence, just watching the desert and passing the bottle back and forth. 

Even with the light from the party, there were more stars out than he had ever seen back in Boston. He tried not to think of that night with B.J., under the stars. He wasn’t doing a very good job. It felt forever ago. There was a good chance it was. 

He leaned onto Margaret’s shoulder and she let him.

“I think I love him, Margaret,” He said breaking the silence.

“You think or you know?”

“Is there a difference?”

“Trust me, there’s a big difference.”

She was brushing her fingers through his hair. Even at his level of inebriation Hawkeye could tell that he had gone too far—said too much. Good thing he wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences of whatever growing concern Margaret was having. It would be gone tomorrow, disappearing with everything else. 

***

He had started taking hikes through the desert if you could call walking up to the cave with a backpack full of beer hiking. It was easier to be crazy with no one around to witness it. He didn’t have to worry about freaking any of the other wedding guests out.

It wasn’t every day Hawkeye went up, just on the days when it felt like the eternity of the universe and time was crushing him into a pulp. It was easier to go up, wait for the earthquake, and walk away from the whole day. Sure, he would have to do it all again the next day, but sometimes it was easier. 

He had been taking the trek more and more frequently.

He used to bring a camping chair out with him, but that had become too much effort. He just sat on the rocks and drank, crushing cans and tossing them out into the desert.

Being out here in the daytime was so different. For one, there technically wasn’t even a cave there yet. It looked identical to the rest of the rocky landscape. It was hard to connect to the single worst decision of his life. And to the two other worst decisions of his life. He wondered how many other lives he’d ruin just by proximity. 

He kept thinking back to Frank. Hawkeye hadn’t meant to bring him that close. He was too late in realizing that mistake. He wasn’t thinking of the desert, though. Nor the countless deathtraps Frank had put him through. Hawkeye could stop thinking of the first conversation that they had had at the bar. 

_“There is a bottom, and it’s a dark place.”_

He did the best to push it out of his mind.

The sun was beating down especially hard today, or maybe he was finally sick of it. B.J. was right, there’s only so much drinking in the desert one can do.

Hawkeye would be lying if he said that he didn’t hope that one of these days he’d catch B.J. out here—that he just had to be in the right place at the right time. That everything could go back to the way it was before. 

So far it hadn’t worked, and it didn’t look like it was going to work today. It wasn't like he would be able to change anything anyway. If it wasn’t that stupid fight, B.J would’ve found another reason to go.

He finished his beer and threw it as far as it would go before opening another one. He still had a little over an hour before the cave opened up.

***

Hawkeye didn’t remember exactly how he ended up out on the pool deck with Francis and Klinger. This time though he had managed to keep it together during the wedding—no sobbing, no drunk outburst, no nothing. Just polite clapping and a whistle for good measure. 

It was at the reception that things started to get murky. He started following Klinger around after his third or fourth drink just to talk to someone he knew, and he ended up here—sitting on a lounger.

If he didn’t feel so shitty, he might be having had a good time. 

He wasn’t really paying attention to the conversation around him. They didn’t seem to be too bothered by this fact. So when he was addressed directly, he was a little surprised. 

“Hawkeye, you in on this?”

He jerked up, zoning back in. Both of them were looking at him with slight concern. Klinger reached out, offering him a joint. 

“Oh—oh yeah, thanks,” he said, taking it and taking a hit. 

“All good over there?”

“Oh yeah, just a little over-indulgence.”

“You were really going hard at the bar over there.”

“Uh-huh.” Hawkeye passed the joint to Francis. 

“Isn’t that a sin, Francis?” Klinger said, obviously trying to lighten the mood that Hawkeye was bringing down.

“ I’m not in the business of saying what is and isn’t a sin anymore,” Francis responded before taking a hit.

“Just in the business of weddings?” Hawkeye asked.

“Well, that among other things.”

“Don’t you get tired of it?”

“What?”

“Doing weddings? You know, saying the same lines over and over—the _do you takes_ and the _you may nows_. Doesn’t it get boring?”

“I wouldn’t call it boring.” Francis laughed a little at the end.

“Tedious? Draining? Exhausting?”

“Well—”

“You don’t really believe in all that, do you?”

“Of course I do. I try not to say anything I don’t believe—you’ll notice the lack of cassock.”

“Lay off the guy,” Klinger interrupted, “I thought you did a great job.”

“You’re right, you’re right. Sorry, I just—I shouldn’t be taking it out on you.”

“You’ve been acting weird all day, what’s gotten into you?” Klinger said, turning towards Hawkeye.

“Oh you know, the usual—love, loss, uncomfortable cocktail attire.”

“You aren’t even wearing a suit.”

He looked down, really trying to ham up his shock, “I knew I forgot something!”

“You know,” Francis said, ignoring Hawkeye’s deflection, “I could see how weddings could be a little tedious at times. I think it’s all in the vantage point.”

“What?” Hawkeye and Klinger said at the same time, turning back towards Francis.

“Well, if you’re expecting a glass half empty, it’s never going to be full.”

“Uh-huh. Do you have any other delightful parables?” Hawkeye said, rolling his eyes. 

“I have a whole folder in my notes app.”

“If you’re going to start reading fables, I’m going to need another hit,” Klinger said, reaching out towards Francis. 

“Save your platitudes, I’ll just wallow.”

“Where’s the fun in that? Platitudes are just some of the advice I can offer.”

“Trust me, Francis. This might be a little above your pay grade.”

“Good thing I’m not in this line of work for the money then.” He smiled at Hawkeye. “You know, you don’t have to wallow alone.”

“Yeah,” Klinger said, patting him on the back “we’re here for you, Hawk.” 

They didn’t have any idea what he was going through. How could they? Maybe it was the overindulgence or the wedding or the fact that their comments reminded him just how alone he really was. Whatever it was, something tipped him over the edge.

Hawkeye really didn’t like to cry in front of people. It felt wrong, and the most notable occasions still made him cringe when he remembered them—usually late at night when he was trying to sleep. 

There was the time he had gotten yelled at for forgetting his homework after his mom had died, which ended with him crying in front of the whole class. And then when Trapper left, he had cried in Sal and Sal’s in front of the waiter while trying to order a damn cup of coffee. And now he found himself full-on bawling in front of Francis and Klinger.

His only consolation was that neither one of them would remember it. 

***

“Frank! I’m giving myself up!” 

Hawkeye was standing in a driveway, leaning on his car. He had started driving as soon as he got up this morning. It really wasn’t that long of a drive to Irvine, but it had been so long since he was the one to drive that it was a trek of its own right.

“Frank!”

The front door slammed open, and there was Frank. He was wearing an apron, a stark difference to the warpaint he had been wearing during their last meetings.

“Frank.” Hawkeye started towards him, grabbing his arm. “I give up, you win!”

Frank shushed and shuffled him inside. Neighbors had started to come out. If there was anything Hawkeye was good at, it was causing a scene. 

“Just my—uh—nephew! You can go back inside! Nothing to see out here.”

He slammed the door shut. For being a homicidal maniac, Frank’s vacation home was surprisingly normal. There was a _Live, Laugh, Love_ sign in the entrance that Hawkeye would have been making fun of in any other circumstance. 

“Honey,” a woman’s voice called down the stairs, “who’s there?”

“Just an old friend, Louise!”

“Are you going to the wedding with him?”

“Oh no, I—uh—was actually going to skip.”

“We flew all the way out here and you’re not even going to go!”

“Can we talk about this later, dear?”

“Fine, fine, fine.”

Frank pushed Hawkeye out to the back, which was also shockingly normal. There was a pool, lawn, porch, and surprisingly no torture devices. Not even one iron maiden. There were also three little girls running around—Hawkeye assumed they must be Frank’s kids. He never considered the fact that he had kids. 

“What the _hell_ are you doing up here.”

“Daddy said a bad word!”

“Sorry girls.” He turned back to Hawkeye. “What the H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks are you doing here.”

“Can’t you tell Frank, I’m yours!”

“Cut that out, Pierce! Did you come up here to bug my family? That’s low, even for you, you—you lowlife.”

“Yup, I’m just a lowlife stuck at the bottom. And you were right, it’s a dark place.”

Frank just stood there for a moment, before pointing to the lawn chair already opened out in the yard. Hawkeye went to go sit, half expecting them to be a part of a home-alone-style scheme. That they would trigger some shock or paint can trap and Frank would come out laughing that stupid laugh of his. They were just chairs, though. 

Frank's kids were staring at him, and it hit him how little he knew about this man who handmade his last forever to be a miserable existence. It was his fault that Frank was stuck in this H-E-Double-Hockey-Stick of a life, so Hawkeye guessed it was only fair. But still, never in a million years did he expect the man who waterboarded him to be wearing a gingham shirt and khakis while cooking for his happy family.

Frank came back out, still in his apron, with two beers. He offered one to Hawkey before sitting down. 

“You look sad,” the smallest one said to him.

“He’s fine, sweetie.”

“Katie and Maddie just turned 8 in October,” Frank said after a moment, pointing out to the two taller girls, one of whom just pushed the other into the shallow part of the pool, “and Amy started Kindergarten this year.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I don’t get to brag about them much anymore.”

They sat in silence some more. Hawkeye didn’t know what he expected to get out of this. 

“So this is your life?” He asked. 

“Yup. Beautiful wife, beautiful kids. Later I’m going to drive us out to the beach and we’ll watch the sunset together. Maddie’s going to find seashells for all of us and then they’ll all fall asleep in the car on the way back.” For a second, Frank almost sounded sincere. Then he looked over to Hawkeye. “Jealous?”

“Extremely, Frank,” Hawkeye said, deadpan. “What happened to marriage being a bottomless pit of sorrow?’

“I never said that,” Frank lied, looking away, “Besides, priorities can change.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Alright, get on with it. You’re starting to freak Louise out.”

He gestured up behind them. Hawkeye turned, just in time to see the blinds on the second story window abruptly shut. 

“I don’t know. I—uh—I just hadn’t seen you in a while.”

“No shit!”

‘Daddy said a bad word!” The chorus of kids called out, and Hawkeye couldn’t help to laugh.

“Sorry, girls,” He called out before turning back to Hawkeye, “I ended up in the E.R.! They kept pumping stuff in me so I couldn’t fall asleep. Just lying awake, those horrible fluorescent lights—it was terrible.”

“Yes Frank, I can’t even imagine what that’s like.”

“Oh can it, you. You’re the one who came up here.”

“And you’re the one who filled the hotel pool with gasoline and lit it on fire with me in it.”

“Well, we all make mistakes. Besides, I think you deserved it. I’m never going to get to see my girls grow up—never going to get to walk them down the aisle.” Frank took a sip of his beer. “You know, I harbored a lot of anger towards you. But that trip to the E.R. really opened my eyes. And, really, it’s always a good day here. I have everything that I need—there’s nothing to be jealous about. You know, Pierce, you just need to find your ‘Irvine’.”

“I don’t think I have an ‘Irvine’.”

“We all have one.” He paused. “Hey, who was that bastard who slammed into me?”

“Don’t call him that.”

Another pause.

“Hawkeye, I don’t think we should see each other anymore. It’s really not healthy for either of us.”

He couldn’t believe it. Frank was breaking up with him. He really had sunk to the bottom.

Hawkeye nodded, taking a sip of his beer.

“Frank?”

“What?”

“Can you shoot me? It’d save me the trip back. Traffic is going to be killer this time of the day.”

“Keep your voice down!”

“Is that a no?”

Frank didn’t say anything, eyes darting back and forth between his kids in the yard and Hawkeye. 

“Fine,” He said after a moment, “but we’ll have to do it in the side yard. I don’t want the neighbors talking.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean for this update to take two months but c'est le vie.  
> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This is my first fanfic like ever (nothing like hot mash summer to get me to write) so please be kind.


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